Roots of the Riddle
by Mage-Yewoqirife
Summary: A boy with no parents, raised in an orphanage in the 1930s, held a great desire for power and a thirst to prove himself. We all know him as who he wants to be: Lord Voldemort. Journey with little Tom as he discovers Hogwarts, himself and thrives in the world of magic in a way he never knew possible.


**AN: This story was posted almost a year ago and I lost interest. Now I am attempting to bring it back. Reviews keep me going, so if you like it so far, please review!**

Chapter 1: The Visit

Footsteps could be heard outside the hall and the I waited, wondering who could be stopping right outside my door.

"Here we are" I immediately recognized the voice of Mrs. Cole, whose annoying badgering could be heard at all hours of the day, before hearing two quick raps on my door. She did not wait for an answer before intruding on my space and opened the door widely revealing a strangely dressed man who could not have looked more out-of-place in the dull and grey walls that have surrounded me since my birth. Beyond the lengths of auburn hair and matching beard, the man sported a bright plum suit that seemed to be made a thick, unfamiliar fabric and a bright twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton-sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you-well, I'll let him do it."

Mrs. Cole closed my door, leaving the strange man with me and I glared at him over my book, hating him already for interrupting my reading.

Realizing that I had no intention of initiating a conversation, the strange man spoke first, walking towards me with his hand outstretched as if he was a business man at a meeting. It was obvious that this man had never been anywhere in the corporate world; he seemed almost wrong on the planet earth.

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dunderbore. I never did like touching, but this man's unexpected appearance and mannerisms intrigued me. With my hand outstretched, I grasped his with the firmest shake a could muster before letting go as soon as it was acceptable; I was not weak.

Dragging my always empty chair for "visitors" closer, Dunderbore took a seat, and again paused as if allowing me the chance to speak. I refused to oblige.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" Of course, Mrs. Cole had his name wrong. She probably sent him to come check me out and tell everyone that I was crazy. I told her I didn't do half the things she blamed on me! "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?" My hand lifted, pointing accusingly at the door through which the blasted woman had left. Of course, no one understood me. I was special. I was better than them all.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!" The familiar command left my mouth before I realized what I was saying and I felt my eyes widen slightly, but I would not retract the statement. I deserved the truth. Everyone always lied and I hated liars.

The proclaimed "Professor" just continued to smile pleasantly and my resolved quickly died, but I would not yet trust this man. "Who are you?"

He leaned slightly closer as if sharing a secret with me. "I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school-your new school, if you would like to come."

I leapt to my feet as my face contorted into a mask of outrage. Circling around to the door helped to distance myself from that liar. Of course he wanted to coerce me to leaving with him. He was one of them! He thought I was as crazy as the rest and there was no way I would ever go with him!

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course-well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

My mind flashed back to that day on the rocks, but I quickly supressed the memory. I would not show my fear.

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -"

"I'd like to see them try." The rage burning in me lessened to a low simmer as I thought of what I could do if someone tried to force me into any situation I didn't choose.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard me, "is a school for people with special abilities -"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

My mind froze for a second before bombarding me with memories of my abilities. My eyes flickered to his trying to decipher his meaning and debating if I could believe his words. He simply smiled that annoying smile and watched me as I fought to keep my composure steady as my excitement built.

"Magic?" I whispered.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?" Flashes of memories...Billy with his stupid music, the rabbit, whispers from the grass, speaking with snakes, that stupid kite and Amy and her obsession with sewing.

"All sorts." Finally a person who might understand who I am. I felt the desperate need to explain to him how special I am and how much I was capable of before lifting my voice above a whisper, "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

My feet found their way back to the bed and I looked down at my shaking hands remember all they had done to serve me. Clasping them together I covered my face and began to speak again.

"I knew I was different. I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore. "You are a wizard."

Raising my head, I noticed the man was no longer smiling, but that was no matter. My smile was plenty big enough for the both of us. However, the truth was not yet certain. How was I to know this was not all a lie? This man spun pretty tales, but there was no proof.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," I commanded with the certainty that he would immediately oblige. "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, seemingly unbelieving that I did not yet accept his story. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

I paused again. This man would have me sink myself below him? After a moment, I decided I would play his game. Politely, I settled myself and gave him the most sincere smile I could muster saying, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant-please, Professor, could you show me-?"

The man, Professor Dumbledore, pulled a thin, dark stick with balls along its length a little longer than a foot out of his sleeve and raised it in his hand. With a tiny flick towards my wardrobe, he set it in flames. The fire engulfed the entire piece of furniture and I howled in rage. How dare he! My treasures! They were hidden there! My furious gaze found Dumbledore, but as I opened my mouth to scream at him the flames simply vanished. I quickly took in the appearance of my closet and saw no lasting damage; it was as if nothing had happened! My eyes immediately focused on the stick in his hand. Imagine what I could do if I had one of those! My powers are great now through years of honing and practicing while everyone's backs were turned, but with this stick I could have real power.

"Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

I hadn't even noticed the faint rustling that was coming from inside my closet. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered what this man was playing at. Surely he hadn't found out about my treasures.

"Open the door," he commanded.

I walked across the room and slowly opened the doors hoping some mouse had just found its way inside and was frightened by the flames, but my heart sunk as I saw the rattling was coming from my treasure chest. My eyes flickered back to his, wide with uncertainty. How did he know?

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

I hesitated before reaching up and grasping my treasure chest, feeling the rough cardboard beneath my hands. I held it close to my chest and looked up at Professor Dumbledore with caution.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" he asked conversationally, as if asking about the weather. He lowered his head to gaze over his half-moon glasses and I was struck by the feeling that he could see through me.

"Yes, I suppose so, sir." My voice was flat and void of the torrent of emotions rushing through me. What could I do to hide the evidence. Can I distract him? What should I -

"Open it," he commanded.

I removed the lid and revealed my treasures for him to see, but I couldn't look at them. It was as if I couldn't see them, then he couldn't see the secret stories they represented. After all, they were my secrets and non of his business.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

A battle was taking place between my need to learn this magic and my unrelenting pride. My eyes locked on Professor Dumbledore's for a heartbeat, radiating defiance towards yet another command. However, I want this power. The strength. The commanded respect. Once I have that no one will ever be able to command me again. I will hold the ultimate power and all around me will never dare to challenge me. This future victory was the only reason I could force myself to relent: "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have - inadvertently, I am sure-been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic-yes, there is a Ministry-will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," I repeated. Let him think I will be the perfect child. I will act the part and be the best student Hogwarts has ever seen and one day I will hold the ultimate power and other - wizards, I tried the word experimentally - would be able to hold nothing against me. My eyes connected with my secret treasures and I grabbed them one at a time, first Billy's mouth organ, then Amy's thimble, Dennis' yo-yo, and last Lucy's button, and lastly Michael's ball. At once a thought came to mind that could ruin my plans for glory: finances. How was I to pay for school? I quickly voiced my concerns to Professor Dumbledore.

"That is easily remedied," he stated simply, pulling out a small brown pouch that jingled with the obvious coin that were contained within. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but -"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" I interrupted, grabbing the sack absentminded and pulling out a large golden coin unlike one I had ever seen. The center was a small lizard-like creature with wings outstretched. A dragon perhaps? Surrounding it's body was an intricate design made from small raised dots. I ran my finger over the words at the top "Unum Galleon."

"In Diagon Alley," said the Professor. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything -"

"You're coming with me?" asked I blurted out. I don't need help. I've been out plenty on my own...

"Certainly, if you -"

"I don't need you. I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley-" My I could hardly stop the enthusiasm that was boiling over inside me, but I had to remember my manners in order to pacify this man, "-sir?"

I reached forward and grabbed the offered envelope and listened to his instructions to this place called the "Leaky Cauldron." Sounded like a horrible place to visit. Who would want to name a place out of a defective piece of kitchenry?

"You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you-non-magical people, that is-will not. Ask for Tom the barman-easy enough to remember, as he shares your name -"

I flinched hearing the common name and the hatred for my name that did nothing to tell of my greatness. My father was obviously an unremarkable man as his name was so... usual.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," I muttered. It was such a dreary life to be named for someone because people then expect you to act like them, but how was one supposed to act when their father played no part in their life?. Wondering if this man could fix my problem, the words rushed out of my mouth: "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," I muttered, almost to myself. Magic would have kept her alive if she had any, but what could have made him leave her to die and me unclaimed. "It must've been him. So-when I've got all my stuff- when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," explained Professor Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

I felt my head move in understanding and again grasped his hand, this time not letting go before asking one last question: "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips-they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?" Surely, this was an impressive feat? I watched his expression, but he seemed to just accept my statement and only his words confirmed my power to be special.

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was conversational, but he curiously looked at me simply waiting before breaking our handshake and turning towards the door. He paused for a moment at the door, turned and sent me one last greeting before closing the door with a click:

"Goodbye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."


End file.
